Maternal Harbor (29 page)

Relaxing her hand on the weapon, she tucked it inside Jimmy’s blanket.  She picked him up and rocked back and forth, her Glock hard between them.  The doorknob jiggled several more times.  She ignored it and waited long enough for the customers to be replaced by ones that hadn’t seen an officer carrying a baby into the restroom.

Finally, Erica drew the strap of the duck-covered bag over her shoulder and glanced into the mirror.  A typical mother loaded down with a child reflected back at her.  A bubble of pleasure touched her – then it burst.

Again, neither the front nor the back of Erica’s modest house showed signs of life.  It looked as empty as Teagan felt.  She’d give anything to have Charlie nestled in her arms right now.  Rain spotted on the windshield of the jeep.  The squiggly droplets on the curve of the glass pooled together to trickle lazily downward.  The drab day lay heavy.  A spot of midday sun would help, but even that was too much of a miracle.  The big miracle would be Charlie, Levi, and Jimmy safe with her.

The heavy Mauser’s stock dented her thighs, and she put it on the floor, angling the barrel toward the door.  She wiggled and resettled.  Her fingertips shimmed back and forth along the surface of the steering wheel.  Suddenly she squeezed where Bryan’s hands had held it.  How could he
not
protect Charlie?  What possessed him to give the boys to the authorities?  He would answer for it.  She snatched up the phone and punched in his numbers.  After one ring, she snapped it shut.  He could rot in hell.  Her priority was finding Charlie, not worrying about what Bryan failed to do.

Mac would help.  She punched in his number, again no answer.

Ideas popped in and out, but none seemed feasible without knowing Erica’s location.  She thought back to the four of them at the clinic, how they planned to help one another, how pleased they were about all carrying sons, and how they loved the matching teddy bears she had bought.  The only thing spoiling the fun when she carried the fuzzy bears into the clinic for her friends was an annoyed look from Tracy behind the receptionist’s counter.

Teagan’s breath caught.  “Tracy knows about the bears!”  She grabbed the phone and left Detective Lute a message to contact Tracy at the clinic.  In a surprisingly calm voice, she explained about the bears and that they were in Erica’s nursery.

Knuckle raps on the side window!

Teagan whirled.

Naddie rapped again, leaning down to look inside.  A smile, wide enough to show her dentures, wrinkled the pudgy cheeks, eyes eager, friendly, curious.

Teagan twisted in front of the Mauser to block it from view and pushed the window button.  The glass lowered.

“I saw you waiting,” Naddie said.  “And thought you should know that Erica came home, took stuff from the baby’s room, and left in her mother’s black Mercedes.  She scared the heck out of me.”

“
Do you have any idea where she went?”

“
How could I?”

“
Relative?  Friend?  Someone she mentioned?”

“
One time I overheard Erica and her mother talking about a cottage somewh--”  Naddie’s eyes widened.  She tried to look around Teagan at the rifle.  Her umbrella banged against the Jeep and one of its wires buckled.  Ashen, she backed away and splashed to her house, fat pink legs pumping, broad butt bouncing, the lopsided umbrella carried high.

Teagan jerked the gear shift into drive and tromped on the gas pedal.  “Stupid.  Stupid.  Stupid.”

The side streets wound, climbed and descended through block after block of residential homes.  Sick dread rode with Teagan.  Finally, she parked by a curb in front of a redbrick church, hoping to appear innocent, blend with a sane, lovely congregation.  She wanted to escape inside and hide under a pew.  Foolish woman, she thought.  The only way to stop Erica is head on.  “Come on, what would she do next?”

Teagan placed a sweaty palm on her sweatier forehead and let her mind run with the craziness of Erica.  It was all about the babies.  Erica wanted the boys and would not stop until someone stopped her.  Find them and she will be somewhere nearby.  The social workers would have given Jimmy to his father, Levi to Doretta’s mom and place Charlie in foster care.

Teagan fingered through business cards in the back of her wallet and pulled one out.  As soon as a real voice answered, Teagan said, “Patch me through to Linda Clark.”

“
Do you have her extension?”

“
No.”

“
One moment please.”

Teagan tugged on a curl behind her earlobe and let her thumb and forefinger slide down the strand.  Fingers did it again, pulling harder this time.

“You have reached Linda Clark’s voice mail.  Please leave a message and I’ll return your call as soon as possible.”

Teagan shook the useless instrument, but stopped herself from pitching it out of the window.  “Okay girl.  You’re on your own.”  With the admission came a surge of acknowledgment.  This was nothing new.  She’d been alone for a long time, even as a child.  Fresh moist air swept through the open window and brushed her cheeks.  She’d check Pai’s apartment.  Duffy might already be home with Jimmy.  “If so, Erica will show.”

Detective Lute knuckle-rapped the captain’s closed door before opening it.  “Linda Clark says the O’Riley baby is in foster care.  Mrs. Johnson has her grandson, and Mr. Sanders left SeaTac with his son.”

Captain Morgan leaned back in his chair.  “Why the hang-dog face?”

“It’s been twenty minutes since Thorburn was told to report in, but according to West Precinct she hasn’t shown up.”

“
I called Schroeder.  Thorburn is backing up a messy domestic.  She’ll report in after they wrap it up.”  He tossed his pen on a pile of papers.  “You know, I’d have him pull her right in if there was a shred of evidence.”

Lute considered for a moment.  “Right now proof doesn’t matter.  Three babies do.  We’d better place them in a secure environment and get a search warrant for Thorburn’s residence.  If Erica gets her pride stepped on for nothing, we’ll apologize.  I need to check out both Teagan’s truck and Erica’s house.”  Lute chose not to mention Tracy at the clinic.  He needed to talk to her first.

Morgan studied Lute like he better damn well know what he was doing.  “Shit, Lute.  Schroeder’s going to defend his officer.  He’s damn sure going to demand proof.  Call him and have him put officers with Johnson and Sanders.”

Lute reached for the door.

“Just a damned minute,” Morgan said.  “Don’t wait for Thorburn to report in.  Go over to West and impress on them to hold her.  Schroeder’s not going to believe this one.”

“
I’ll take Hal with me.  Two voices are better than one.”

“
We have a fresh corpse at Green River.  Hals’ on that.  Everyone’s tied up with some kind of emergency.  It’s up to you to make sure those babies are safe.”

Back at his desk, Lute picked up the phone.  “Is that you, Sylvia?”

“
And who else sounds like me?”

“
Edith Bunker.”  Lute chuckled at the dispatcher’s groan.  “Thorburn report in yet?”

“
Negative, she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.  They’re looking for her now.”

“
I’m leaving for West Precinct.  Keep me updated on my cell.”

“
Roger.”

Lute turned on his cell and hurried to the elevator.  How did this happened?  He had sensed the good in Teagan.  But the captain wanted more than hunches.  His cell phone rang as he pushed the button.

“
Detective Lute?”  Teagan’s voice.

He held the receiver tighter to his ear, cutting off the noise of the room behind him.

“Did you get my message about Tracy?”

“
Yes.  Where are you?”  Lute heard a click.  Before he tucked his phone way, it rang again.

“
Teagan?”

“
A Bryan Winslow from Montana is down here at security and wants to see you.”

“
I’ll be right down.”

Lute stewed while he waited for the elevator to reach the main lobby.  Ever since Teagan’s last phone call, the knot in his gut told him she was telling the truth.  Now time was being wasted, time to let her pull something really dumb.  One of the patrolmen should’ve spotted her and Erica should’ve been brought in by now.  And now he had to question Winslow, who might or might not provide enough information to back up her story.  If he does have something, maybe Morgan would believe it.  Maybe Schroeder would believe it.  Maybe I will too.

Lute rubbed his forehead.  It was impossible to work a murder investigation on maybes.

The Cedar Village apartment complex teemed with playing children.  A cluster of gossiping mothers watched over them near a swing set.  Pai and Jimmy should be among them, Teagan thought.  Jimmy in a fancy wicker carriage, and his mother in a red silk dress.  Pai’s memory flourished for a moment.  She had the most perceptive almond eyes; pools of emotion, always ready to shine in laughter or sorrow.

That is until the day they changed to worry: Teagan had gone with Doretta and Pai to buy clam chowder at the wharf and sit in the breeze, watching sailboats ply the Sound.  Erica strolled by and acted surprised to see them.  Pai was always on guard after that. 

Teagan straightened the blanket over the Mauser and set the lock on the Jeep door.

The curious mothers watched her every step.  One separated herself from the group.  “Hi,” Sung said.  “I haven’t seen you since Pai died.  I know you were a friend of hers.”

Teagan remembered their meeting at the clinic.  “Is Duffy home?”

“He left to buy groceries.”  Sung gestured toward the visitor’s parking area.  “He must be back though.  I don’t see the squad car.”

Teagan’s nerves sharpened.  “Squad car?”

“I must say it seems strange to leave a baby with a cop, but I guess Pai met her at the clinic.”

Teagan bolted across a short stretch of lawn and ran up the steps two at a time.

Pai’s door gaped open.

“
Duffy!”  Teagan charged inside.  Silence chilled her, and she halted.  Dirty dishes filled the sink and a baby bottle sat on the cupboard.  She called again, softly this time.  She crept down the hall afraid of what she’d find.

Don’t be dead.

Please don’t be dead.  She licked her lips and pushed open Pai’s bedroom door.  Empty.  The nursery was too.

Erica took Jimmy!

Teagan bolted back through the apartment, but skidded to a dead stop at the door.  Pai once said Duffy owned a handgun.  She dashed back to the master bedroom and yanked out drawers, checked under pillows, and ran her hand the length of the closet’s top shelf.  Nothing.  She swept the room with a sharp look.  Where?  Where?  Of course.  The mattress.  Sure enough a handgun rested hard under the pillow-top mattress.  She picked it up by its black handle, the barrel nickel-colored and lethal.  Familiar only with hunting rifles, Teagan decided it was basically the same, just a point and shoot.  She checked the cylinder for bullets.  The butts of brass shells contrasted against the dull metal.  She inserted the lethal sidearm into her belt.  Her skin molding to the handle, she pulled her shirt over it, and ran for the door, barreling into Duffy as he stepped inside.

“
What the hell?”  He struggled to hang on to his ripping his grocery sacks.  A dozen eggs slipped free and fell, cracking, busting.  “Teagan?”

“
She’s going to kill the babies!”

“
What?  Who?”

Teagan shoved by him, sending him reeling.  “Call Detective Lute!  Maybe
now
he’ll believe me!”  She ran down the stairs and for the Jeep.

Sung Lee still stood in the same spot, watching with big eyes.

The Jeep fired and Teagan backed out.

Duffy charged across the lawn, shouting, “Stop!”

She lowered the window.  “Erica took Jimmy!  Make the call!”  The Jeep bounced high over the speed bumps.

Across the main lobby of the Seattle’s Public Works building stood a man, a tad less than six feet, had plenty of shoulder, a narrow waist, brown hair and worried eyes -- had to be Bryan Winslow.  Good, Lute thought.  It’d be quicker getting answers from someone anxious.

“Detective Lute?”  Bryan asked without greeting.  “Did Teagan reach you?”

Before Lute could answer, Halstead rushed through security, a deep scowl on his face.  “What do you know about that baby stealer?” he demanded of Bryan.

“I came to help,” Bryan said levelly.  “Any more comments like that and I’m going straight to the newspapers.  I’m sure they’d like to hear how the SPD took three babies from a safe place and put them in reach of a murdering cop.”

“
Maybe in Montana you’d get away with talking like that,” Hal snapped.  “Not here.”

“
That’s enough, Hal.”  Lute snapped, too.

“
I want to talk to you alone,” Bryan said to Lute. 

“
My desk upstairs is as alone as it gets, Mr. Winslow.”

After a silent ride back up to the fifth floor, Bryan dogged Lute through the maze of work stations to a cubicle on the far left of a wide room.  He refused the chair.

Lute perched on the edge of his desk and relaxed his shoulders and arms, trying to convey a willingness to work together.  “We’re on the same team.  Quick communication will help Teagan.”